The Sleep of Innocence

He lay quietly in his splendid cradle, which was placed upon a sort of
estrade in the centre of the room, dimly lighted by a lamp suspended
from the ceiling by golden chains. This slumbering, smiling, childish
face, peeping forth from the green silk coverings of the pillows,
resembled a fresh, bursting rosebud. It was a sight that inspired
respect even in those rough soldiers.

Devoutly staring, they at first remained at the door of the room; then
slowly, and stepping on the points of their toes, they approached nearer
and surrounded the cradle. But, remembering the words of their new
empress, "Spare his sleep," no one dared to touch the child, or awaken
him from his slumber.

In close order the bearded warriors pressed around the cradle of the
imperial child, leaning upon their halberds, watching for his awaking.

It was a rare and admirable picture. In the centre, upon its estrade,
was the splendid cradle of the slumbering child, and all around, upon
the steps of this child-throne, these soldiers with their wild and
threatening faces, all eyes expectantly resting upon the smiling
infantile brow.

The door now opened, and, her face pallid with terror, Ivan's nurse
rushed into the room and to the cradle of her imperial nursling. The
soldiers, with imperious glances, beckoned her to await in silence, like
themselves, the awakening of the emperor. The poor woman spoke not, but
her fast-flowing tears indicated the depth of her grief.

Time passes. As if under enchantment, earnest, immovable, silent, stand
the soldiers. Behind the cradle, her eyes and arms raised imploringly
toward heaven, stands the nurse, while the child continues to slumber,
smiling in its sleep.